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U.E. If some cretin tells you that everyone else is a cretin, the fact of being a cretin doesn’t mean that he might not be telling the truth. If he then adds that all others are cretins “like him”, he is positively intelligent. And therefore not a cretin. Because others spend their lives trying to make you forget that’s what they are. (p. 219)

One of the greatest writers of all times is dead. I'm so sorry, Italy, I'm so sorry, world, for our loss!
http://www.corriere.it/cultura/16_feb...

Clevinger was one of those people with lots of intelligence and no brains, and everyone knew it except those who soon found it out.

Merry, merry Christmas!

‘After all, the appeal to stop being yourself, even for a little while, is very great,’ he said. ‘To escape the cognitive mode of experience, to transcend the accident of one’s moment of being. ’

He had reached the city now and was heading along the avenue that will lead him to his destination, ahead of him, traveling faster than the van, ran his thoughts, head of the buying department, head of department, head of buying, Isaura Estudiosa, poor thing, had been left behind. (p. 76)

And that was that, thought Anders Bodén. A door opens, and then closes before you have time to walk through it. A man has as much control over his destiny as a log stencilled with red letters which is thrust back into the torrent by men armed with spiked poles. (p. 41)

Why, bless you, I ain't been 'ome at all for five years. It's 'ard to be separated from a wife and kids by a conspiring woman trying to make yer put on yer boots. (p. 218)

If it's a choice between my moral judgment and the nationalization of banking, I prefer nationalization, if you see what I mean. (p. 85)

Vous pensez que le passé, parce qu'il a déjà été, est achevé et immuable? Ah non, son vêtement est fait d'un taffetas changeant et chaque fois que nous nous retournons sur lui nous le voyons sous d'autres couleurs. (p. 161)

A trentanove anni egli se ne moriva: il
sangue vecchio e impoverito dei Viceré si corrompeva, non nutriva più le flaccide fibre. (p. 206 - Ferdinando)

Le dégoût qu'il avait éprouvé de lui-même était resté en bas; en bas il avait senti ses mains devenues moites de terreur et son souffle s'accélérer; mais ici, en haut, dans le poème, il était bien au-dessus de son dénuement… (p. 89)

Time passes. Cars are fatter and fewer, and imitate animals with their fins and wings. (…)
Last week they came and took away my colour TV. They gave me a black-and-white one. I made on the deal, but when I switched it on my first thought was: uh-oh. There goes world opinion. (p. 98)

Aussi renonçait-il à la flûte, aux sentiments exaltés, à l'imagination: - car tout bourgeois, dans l'échauffement de sa jeunesse, ne fût-ce qu'un jour, une minute, s'est cru capable d'immenses passions, de hautes entreprises. Le plus médiocre libertin a rêvé des sultanes; chaque notaire porte en soi les débris d'un poète. (p. 311)